


Out of the Sky

by LavenderCat



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Protective Jason Todd, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderCat/pseuds/LavenderCat
Summary: Bruce had stared Tim in the eyes as he gripped his shoulders when the order was given, refusing to break eye contact until Tim verbally agreed. Dick had smoothed a hand through Tim’s hair and pulled him in for a hug while asking him to ‘please, please stay away from him’. Tim wasn’t sure which appeal freaked him out more, but he got the message. Do not engage with psychos who despise Bats and carry around duffle bags full of severed heads.So far, Tim had done a great job maintaining that credo. That is, until the Hood himself dropped out of the sky into the back-alley brawl Robin was losing.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 21
Kudos: 442
Collections: Red Hood vs Red Robin





	1. Chapter 1

It was weird.

Batman had given Robin very clear orders to stay the hell away from the Red Hood. B had collected every scrap of evidence that had come up concerning the new mask on the streets. Every potential allusion in the news, every eyewitness account from shaded allies and thwarted criminals, anything and everything that scented remotely of the up and coming crime lord. The new player had made a name for himself even as he remained a shadow on the fringes of Gotham’s seedy underbelly. The Red Hood was dangerous.

More than that, Batman knew firsthand that he was ruthless, volatile, and relentlessly vicious when a Bat was involved. He had come at Batman hard, seemingly out of nowhere. Had almost even managed to clip Nightwing when he was in town. Perhaps more alarming was that Hood seemed to know an awful lot about the Bats and their operation.

Both of Robin’s senior teammates had made it clear that he was to stay away and never engage Hood. Bruce had stared Tim in the eyes as he gripped his shoulders when the order was given, refusing to break eye contact until Tim verbally agreed. Dick had smoothed a hand through Tim’s hair and pulled him in for a hug while asking him to _‘please, please stay away from him’_. Tim wasn’t sure which appeal freaked him out more, but he got the message. Do not engage with psychos who despise Bats and carry around duffle bags full of severed heads.

So far, Tim had done a great job maintaining that credo. That is, until the Hood himself dropped out of the sky into the back-alley brawl Robin was losing.

_And started fighting off the thugs._

Which was the weird part. Red Hood was what… defending him? Defending Robin?

Tim stopped trying to fight, slumping against the brick wall he had been corralled against. His chest was screaming in pain from what he was reasonably sure were cracked ribs, and his right leg was shaking under his weight as he struggled not to put weight on a throbbing, twisted knee. His vision was starting to go fuzzy on the edges. He reached an impatient hand up to swipe away the blood seeping onto his domino.

Hood had grown tired of brawling and had pulled out two guns from the holsters at his thighs. Robin watched without really processing what he was seeing. Dimly he heard the powerful sound of gunshots and registered that these correlated with the gang members dropping where they stood. An oppressive ringing was rising in Tim’s ears. His head felt muddled and far away from his consciousness.

This couldn’t be real. His mind was coming up empty. Hood was fighting off Robin’s pursuers. _Killing_ them off. Had he not noticed Robin? He was sort of difficult to miss in his traffic light get up… Maybe Hood didn’t know he was a Bat? No. There’s no way he knew that much about the Bats without knowing about the legacy of the boy wonder.

What was it then?

Maybe he needed Robin for something? Perhaps Tim was just a useful lure that two forces were grappling for. Tim’s stomach sank as his leg buckled beneath him. His grip on consciousness was departing fast.

Red Hood had won. The fight was over. So much blood. Were they dead?

Tim hit the ground. The ringing was dull now. He was almost gone. Vision narrowing to pinpricks. Hood was approaching. Guns away. He stopped before Tim and crouched in front of him.

The last thing Tim registered before slipping away was the Hood reaching forward to catch his heavy head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim awoke suddenly, startled awake from something in his dreams that instantly slipped away as his eyes snapped open. For a long disorienting moment, Tim laid still, sluggishly reaching for a thought to grasp hold of.
> 
> The first coherent thought to register was practical. 
> 
> Where the hell was he?

Tim awoke suddenly, startled awake from something in his dreams that instantly slipped away as his eyes snapped open. For a long disorienting moment, Tim laid still, sluggishly reaching for a thought to grasp hold of.

The first coherent thought to register was practical. _Where the hell was he?_

His head felt fuzzy and a little floaty. Which was not at all helping him gather his train of thought. He blinked slowly as his eyes roved over his surroundings. There was not much to look at. White walls and two doors caddy corner from one another. Presumably a closet and the entry way. The ceiling above was high. A skylight above revealing a muted, lugubrious sky dropping heavy, lazy raindrops. The gentle taps and patters of rain was soothing, somehow drawing attention to the warmth ensconcing his body.

He was resting on a firm, soft surface, tucked between pillows in such a way that he would not be able to roll onto his side while sleeping. A fluffy, down duvet was laid atop his supine form. He was… comfortable. And yet, something about his situation was off. He was comfortable but he couldn’t settle. Something was niggling at his mind, but it was difficult to examine as his thoughts kept dissipating before solidifying. Almost like he was… like he was… drugged?

A faint thrill of panic shot through his body. Almost escaping him before he clamped down on the urge to sink into drowsy comfort, again.

Home? No… The manor? No… Hospital? No. Where in the—

He needed to leave.

Carefully… Ever so delicately, Tim leveraged himself off the bed, rolling over the pillow against his side. His feet touched soundlessly against the floor. He was wearing warm grey socks. They weren’t his. The black leggings and undershirt were his. Where was the suit? Where was the mask?

The faint panic from before now returned with a vengeance.

Tim shifted his body forward so he could stand and bit back a cry as his right knee pivoted painfully against the weight. Shifting his weight towards his left leg, Tim looked down to discover a slim wrap brace over his leggings. He took a steadying breath.

There were no exits beyond the door and the skylight. Ordinarily, Tim would have made for the skylight without hesitating, but with a bum knee and no gear, he didn’t see himself parkouring up the wall. That left chancing the door.

Stealing himself against the throbbing stabs emanating from his knee, Tim willfully absorbed impact into his slightly bent knees so that he could roll his feet through utterly silent steps.

His breath felt shallow against his aching ribs, also wrapped. Huh.

With great care, Tim turned the door handle and eased the door open. Thankfully, it whispered open without noise. Tim glanced at the space beyond. An apartment, tidy and sparse lay before him. A kitchenette and dining space blending into a living room area. Couch, coffee table, bookshelves. A cabinet was set on the far side of the room, set before the couch, where a figure seemed to be sleeping. Tim couldn’t see much of the person, dark hair resting on one armrest, and socked feet propped against the other.

Tim’s eyes lingered on the figure for a moment, waiting for movement. When none came, he chanced a look for the door. He could not currently see it, leading him to believe that it must be built into the same wall as the bedroom door.

Another glance at the figure sprawled on the sofa revealed no change. Tim allowed himself the space of a silent breath around his aching chest before stepping out of the bedroom.

“You’re awake.”

Tim jolted. Muscles tensing and joints locking in response. He wavered on the spot, catching hold of the doorway to steady himself as he whipped back to the only other person in the room.

The man had sat up. Looking levelly at Tim from over the sofa back.

Dark hair with a white forelock pushed back from assessing blue-green eyes. Eyes like…

“You—” Tim broke off, clamping his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness. Clenching the door frame even as his knee twisted underneath him, limbs buckling like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

When Tim opened his eyes, the man was crouched before him again. Brow furrowed and mouth tipped down at the corners.

“You—I—” Tim tried again. Hands coming up to cradle his head as he struggled to put threads of thought together. Everything was starting to swim in front of him again. Was he seeing things?

“Pretty sure you were drugged. And you definitely should still be sleeping off the worst of that concussion.”

A hand pushed his hair back, gently knocking his own hands away. Tim blinked quickly at the impossible face before him.

“You’re—You can’t be—ungh”

Tim pitched forward, palms flattening to the ground to catch himself. His breath hitched around the spike of pain that elicited from his ribs. Head still swamped in confused half thoughts.

“C’mon, Baby Bird. Back to bed with you.” An arm slipped around his shoulders, leaning him back as another swept under his legs. His head lolled into a shoulder as he was lifted from the ground.

His eyes had fallen closed at some point. And from there, sleep had the advantage.

♔ ♔ ♔

The next time he awoke, it was because of pain. Whether it had been the pulsating throb from his knee, the tight agony from his ribs, or the dull, nauseating ache from his head, was difficult to determine.

The confusion was gone, at least.

The man was sitting on the floor, back to Tim, propped against the bed. The name sprang to his mind, unbidden.

“Jason.”

The man tensed. Then visibly loosened his shoulders. Tim absently thought that he might have felt more tension if he had been fully alert. A moment of silence stretched out interminably, and then, Jason released a cleansing sigh.

“I really wanted to hate you. But it turns out you can’t hate a little baby bird.”

Tim started at the admission, drawing a blank. “I’m sorry.”

Jason twisted to give Tim an incredulous look before huffing a laugh and staring up to the heavens as though to beg patience.

“Oh baby bird… How could I even think of hating you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I am not much of a storyteller, but I do love to write.   
> I just want the Batfam to be happy.


End file.
